“Make me a promise now,” I whisper as I spin in his arms, staring up at the beautiful view. “This moment right here...capture it for me somehow. And the first moments we danced that night at the lodge. Our night making cookies. Can you capture those for me? Because I don’t want to lose them.”
Emotion makes my voice tremble and I realize I am scared. I am trembling not from the cold at all. I am terrified. I weighed what I was worth for so long by what I could give. What pricey gifts I gave for special occasions or the places I flew off to when we wanted to get away. The wealth I had grown up with was all I had going for me. It was how I mattered in the world—because I tried to do good with it.
Before I never considered my worth as a person. Was I kind? Was I caring? Did I make people laugh? Did I make people happier for knowing me? All these things, I had never had to think about because I could donate to a shelter or a cause to feel good and kind. If someone was sad, I could cheer them up by going to Disneyland and shutting it down for us. None of that counts towards who or what I am as a person. Not really.
I am scared that Brett knows all of that. That he wants me now because I am shiny and pretty enough to show off at these holiday parties. I want to believe that he has been feeling what I have, that there is really nothing fake about this. But I can’t let myself believe anything. I am afraid he wants to fake this just long enough to get through the season. After that I will be left out in the cold.
I am afraid that once the new year hits, I will have lost him along with everything else.
“Bunny, talk to me,” he husks as his warm hands frame my face. “What is going on in that beautiful brain of yours? You look terrified.”
Blinking up at him as snow coats his dark jacket and dots his dark hair, I realize tears blur my vision. And he is still beautiful. I try to hide my tears, but his face darkens once he sees them. He dips his head, brushing his lips on my cheeks, kissing the tears away.
“Bunny,” his voice is so gentle my tears just fall faster. “What is it?”
“I...I thought I was a good person. Now I think...since my father cut me off, what have I done? Let you spoil me and take care of me. All I have ever done is spend someone else's money. I have never done something worthwhile. I am starting to think I am just as worthless as he said I am.”
A muffled sound vibrates from deep in his chest. The twinkling lights shine in his dark eyes as they flare hot. Not with the heat I am so accustomed to. But with anger. No, with rage. He told me how little he thinks of my father after what happened, but I don’t think I fully understood until this moment.
“He will regret the day he spoke to you that way. How could you ever doubt you are good? You are...Brielle, you are the sweetest, most honest, brightest, and most giving person I have ever met. You did not traipse across the globe to take selfies to post to Instagram. You were in the trenches, saving homes, protesting injustices and cruelties, and you have saved lives.”
“But did I do it for them...or did I do all of that for me?”
“Someone might say it matters, but I don’t think it does. What has any of us done that is not a little self-serving?”
“What have you ever done that was self-serving?”
“You, bunny. Pretending at these parties, so the world, most importantly your piece of shit father to see that we’re headed down the aisle. That is one of the most self-serving things I have ever done, Brielle.”
Fear pulses through my veins like a sickness. I stumble, falling back against the stone pillars surrounding the terrace. We’re lit by twinkling lights, but it feels darker, colder, as I stare at him. I am afraid to ask what he means. But as is often the case with Brett North, he does not make me wait.
“Because I did it for me. Because I want you. I would lie, cheat, steal, and lie again to have you. I would do anything for you. Don’t you see that?”
“Why? What is so special about me? What have I done to deserve...”
“Bunny, I told you.... all you have to do is exist,” his voice trembles as he presses close, pinning me to the pillar.
Gazing up at him, I make a decision. Maybe I am not worthy of him or of anyone. Father might be right that I have done nothing worth mention in my twenty-five years. But with him, right now at least, that does not matter.
I decide to fake it as long as he will let me.
“Keep your promise,” I rasp, lifting my leg until he hooks his hand beneath my knee.
“What promise...oh, bunny,” his voice turns hot as he sees the intent swirling my eyes.
Reaching between us, I swiftly unzip his slacks and slide my hand inside. He is hot, despite the frigid temperatures, his shaft thick and hard in my hand. I push at his boxers and pants until he springs free. Pumping him slowly, I focus on his eyes. His eyes always tell me what I need to know. If he needs harder, slower, or faster and wetter.
Spitting on my hand, I laugh when he groans, and his head falls back. I work him harder, faster, panting as I watch him give in. He always gives in spoils me by giving me what I need. And right now, I need him.
“Please, Ace,” I taunt, rubbing my thumb at his swollen tip.
“Quiet. Don’t make a sound. We don’t want someone to interrupt.”
Nodding, I pointedly seal my lips, but he just laughs. We both know once he gets me going, I won’t be quiet. I can’t be once he starts touching me. Once he fills me and stretches me, fitting me to him in that way that makes me believe I was meant just for him, I can’t stay quiet. And he is lying—he does not care if we get caught. In fact, I think the risk turns him on.
Brett steps back, his foot kicking at mine to force my stance to widen, His hand passes by mine that still strokes him, pushing my panties to the side. He hisses when he finds me wet, his rough fingers rubbing at me. I don’t need him to get me ready. I have been ready since that blonde was flirting with him earlier, but he had eyes only for me.
Bringing his wet fingers to my mouth, he coats my lips in my own arousal. Groaning when I stick my tongue out, he bends and licks at my sticky lips then kisses me hard. Gripping my hip, he tilts me slightly. When he thrusts, sinking deep in one stroke, his mouth swallows my moan.